


Holding On And Letting Go

by Black_Calliope



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:38:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Calliope/pseuds/Black_Calliope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because home is where you heart lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding On And Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> I blame it on [this pic](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lzd0r8ysUy1qck593o1_500.jpg).

Nights are usually way too quiet down at the Hale’s house. Derek knows it even too well, has learned to readjust himself to the silence and the stillness of this old place, once filled with life and sounds. So many sounds.

He remembers distinctly the clicking of his mother’s heels against the wood floor, a telling sign of the fast, yet graceful, strides that she was used to take when his father came back home at night. And again the distinct, yet delicate click of the door opening, crisp air invading the foyer, curling everywhere in invisible strands as his father stepped on the porch. If Derek would just close his eyes, he’d probably still hear the sound of his jacket’s zip being opened, the short intake of breath that he’d take right before popping a kiss on his wife’s mouth- Everything is silent now.

It’s something that he’s grown used to by now, now that even Laura is gone, the sound of her laugh - small, delicate bells swinging in the wind - brutally murdered by one of their own kind. What once was family, now is just memories.

And yet Derek can’t help himself at times, mostly when he’s caught in that fleeting, incorporeal moment between sleep and wakefulness, struggling to discern which way he has to go, gulping down air that he doesn’t need. Another heartbeat resonating along with his, familiar and steady, mixing with Derek’s like only Laura’s could, so very similar and yet different, unique.

It’s difficult sometimes to get rid of these dreams, impose to his mind to stop playing tricks to his senses and regain full control of himself. Derek would be lying if he said that he doesn’t miss his sister, that he doesn’t wish she was still alive and beside him, strong and yet so gentle like only Laura was able to.

Her absence is a burning, gaping wound that will always bleed, no matter how many patches will be put onto it, no matter how many days or years it will pass.

And that’s why Derek has stopped trying.

Behind the curtains the moon is a thin, blurred line against the dark sky and he watches as it lazily plays hide and seek with the clouds, the sound of the clock marking the slow passing of the time.

The window’s glass is cold when he presses his forehead against it, his fingers finding the windowsill and holding onto it, almost making the wood creak. He lets his eyes wander on the woods, where everything is quiet and dark, focuses on the smooth, calm movements of the branches swaying in the wind, lets the rhythm lead him to a place where his mind can have a bit of rest, somewhere made of nothing but blank spaces, where everything is silent and incorporeal.

“Derek?”

Stiles’ voice diverts him from his thoughts with the same force of a gunshot, his sleepy, concerned tone pulling at something inside Derek’s chest. He closes his eyes, inhales the chilly, humid night air for a moment longer before turning to face Stiles.

The bedroom is immersed in the dark, but the faint moonlight filtering between the curtains is enough to illuminate the small portion of Derek’s bed where Stiles is sitting, dark blue covers pooling around his bare hips.

“What time is it?” Stiles murmurs shooting a glance to the digital clock on Derek’s bedside table. There are pillow marks all over his left cheek and Derek watches him as he slowly rubs his eyes, yawning widely. He notices how Stiles’ lips are now back to their usual pale-pink color, way too different from the angry red of a few hours before, when Derek had bit them and licked his way into Stiles’ mouth, moving against him, fucking him slow and deep, swallowing Stiles’ breathy moans and filling him with his come.

After, he’d had kept Stiles against him, arms circling the boy’s hips and legs entwined with his as Stiles had slowly drifted off to sleep, breath slowing down and heart beating louder than ever in the silence of the night, a steady, peaceful sound that had worked its way right into Derek’s veins. He’d focused on those muffled, delicate _thumps_ , and it’d almost overwhelmed him.

“Come watch the moonlight from here,” Stiles then says, breaking the silence. The look in his eyes is focused now, as he studies the expression on Derek’s face and waits.

Derek says anything and watches him blink, one, two, three times as the moment stretches into a dark, velvety line. He stands there beside the window for a moment longer, before stepping towards the bed, bare feet making no sound as he pads across the wood floor.

When he reaches the bed, one of Stiles’ hands is there waiting for him, and so he takes it, lets Stiles pull him on the mattress, under the covers where everything is warm and safe, where Stiles’ scent is everywhere and his heartbeat is the only sound filling Derek’s mind.

He buries his nose into the crook of Stiles’ neck, inhales deeply as he closes his eyes once again. “I can’t let you go,” he murmurs, words rolling against the boy’s skin like a dangerous, yet welcomed dagger.

Against him Stiles stays silent for a second, gives the words the time to sink in before opening his mouth. “So don’t,” he then replies, fingertips finding Derek’s hip and sinking into tender flesh, holding onto him.

“Yeah, maybe I won’t,” Derek says. And when he kisses the smooth, pale expanse of skin covering Stiles’ jugular vein, the feeling of Stiles’ blood rushing against his lips makes a home somewhere deep in his chest, there where Laura’s blond hair are still shining under the sunlight and where his father’s big, comforting hand is still resting on his shoulder.

Because home is where you heart lies.


End file.
